


prompts (2020)

by sapphirestylan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23366947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirestylan/pseuds/sapphirestylan
Relationships: Niall Horan/Harry Styles
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	1. things i still have dreams about

There’s hundreds of people milling about and the venue is massive, so it’s natural that he loses track of where Niall is. He doesn’t mind for a bit - he hangs around Liam, thanks people, accepts congratulations, drinks a responsible amount and no more, et cetera, but he keeps seeing blond hair out of the corner of his eye and turning towards it only for it to be someone that’s decidedly not-Niall. The longer this drags on the more frustrated he gets. The band is splitting, for God’s sake, they should be crying together or else celebrating. That gives him the idea of celebratory/congratulatory/end-of-an-era blowjobs, which he thinks Niall would enjoy very much. 

He gives up his pretense and goes to look for him backstage, heading towards his own dressing room first, and when it’s empty, towards Niall’s. 

They should get out of here, he thinks. Back to the hotel. Away from everyone else. He can’t wait to make those glasses of his fog up. 

Harry turns the doorknob - only to find that it’s locked. 

“Niall?” he calls, knocking twice on the door. He tilts his head closer. He can hear voices from inside. There’s a quiet laugh, unmistakably a woman’s. 

His mouth goes dry, blood rushing hot in his ears. It’s probably - it’s just - 

The door opens, but barely. Niall stands there, glasses nowhere to be seen, tie loose, mouth red. Over his shoulder, Harry sees a flash of dark hair and the edge of someone’s arm. 

“What is it, Harry?” Niall asks, and his voice isn’t brisk enough to be called impatient, but it’s sharp enough for it to sting. 

“Sorry, didn’t know you were busy,” he says, a little light-headed. He feels like he’s about to vom. “I’ll come back later.” 

“Okay,” Niall says. “Are you alright? You look a bit pale.” 

“I’m fine,” Harry tells him, shaking his head. “I’m good.” 

“Okay,” Niall says again, “see you later.” 

The door closes in his face. 

Harry blinks awake, disoriented. 

He leans over to check his phone; it’s 12:58 in the morning. He flops back in bed with a sigh, staring up into the darkness. The nausea from the dream seems to have carried into his waking world. 

He hasn’t dreamed about him in months, maybe a year, he’s not keeping track. He hasn’t even thought about that night in a while. 

That kind of thing sticks with you, though, he supposes. Maybe if they’d been together properly and he’d seen him with her and they’d had it out, he’d have gotten over it sooner. But it’s the in-between thing that really sunk its teeth into him. He’d had nothing to accuse Niall of, nothing to blame him for, because they weren’t dating. They were just good friends that fell into bed together some nights. 

It never helped that Harry was the jealous type, or that he was in love with him. 

And of course he never said anything. Talking about it would ruin everything. It would show his hand, would suggest that he was invested, that he cared a little too much about the things Niall was doing with people that weren’t him. That was unacceptable. Harry could never bear to mess with their friendship, even if he broke his own heart in the process. 

Not even the end of their relationship was official. It petered out and faded until Harry couldn’t remember the last time they’d spoken on the phone, let alone the last they’d met. He’s thoroughly persuaded himself it’s for the best. An unspoken love like that would have hurt too much to be worth it, and the only way to extract himself from it was distance. It was hard to leave Niall’s orbit, to leave the safety of their friendship, of course it was. But it was done. 

All he’s got left now are dreams. 


	2. things you said when you were scared

Late afternoon sunlight slants through the kitchen, broken up by Harry’s shadow as he stands in front of the fridge. His stomach lets out a quiet growl. He reaches for the string cheese, ‘cause he’s been craving some lately - but just before he grabs it, he sees something on the floor out of the corner of his eye. 

It’s a cockroach of frankly gargantuan size. He screams. 

The bedroom door opens. 

_ “Harry?”  _

Niall comes hurrying down the hallway, and asks, worried, “Harry, are you alright?” 

He stops in the middle of the kitchen and looks up at Harry, who has taken recent refuge from the many-legged beast by standing on a chair. Harry, stricken with terror, points wordlessly at it. 

Niall follows his finger. 

“What are you pointing at?” 

“There,” Harry says shrilly. “Right there! The bug!” 

“...where?” 

“ _ There!”  _

Niall squints. “That thing? That’s like, an ant, Harry.” 

“It’s  _ not, _ ” Harry protests. “Please just take it out. Get rid of him.” 

“Jeez, you make me sound like a hitman.” 

“Niall!” 

“I paint houses,” Niall says to himself in a surprisingly god awful New York accent, and then laughs at his own joke. 

“Stop it.” 

“Alright, alright,” Niall says, holding his hands up in surrender. “You want me to leave? I’ll leave.” 

“ _ Niall James.”  _

Niall turns back to him and rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Harry. It’s a bug. It can’t hurt you.” 

“Yes it fucking can.” 

“It’s more scared of you than you are of it.” 

Just then, the cockroach begins scuttling to the left. Harry shrieks and clutches his hands to his chest. 

“I’ll pay you,” he says, panicking. “I’ll pay you to get rid of it.” 

Niall’s brows rise. “Seriously?”    


“Yes, now fucking-” 

“How much?” 

Harry stares at him, breathless, wide-eyed. “Five dollars.” 

“I think you’re undervaluing my services.” 

“Ugh, six.” 

“No can do.” 

“Six and a half.” 

“My God, Harry, I’m saving you from probable death, at least give me a whole number-” 

“ _ Seven _ .” 

“Done.” 

Niall steps forward and raises his foot to squash the cockroach. 

“Wait!” Harry yells suddenly. “Don’t kill him, for fuck’s sake! Take him outside!” 

Niall looks up at him, face blank. “You’re joking.” 

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Harry reasons. “He doesn’t deserve to be murdered.” 

“ _ Murdered?”  _

“Hey, it was premeditated, wasn’t it?” 

Niall pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’ll cost extra.” 

“Eight dollars to take the unsightly gentleman outside!” 

“Nine.” 

Harry frowns. “I’m not made of money, Niall.” 

“Do you want the fucking thing gone or-” 

“Okay, fine, nine, just do it already.” 

Niall grumbles under his breath as he fetches a glass, tears off a piece of kitchen towel, jostles the insect onto it and then traps him quickly under the glass. Harry clambers carefully down from the chair as Niall goes outside. 

Niall comes back in to find Harry rifling through his wallet, pulling out bills. 

“What are you doing?” 

Harry frowns. “Paying you.” He holds out the money. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Niall says, pushing it away. “I was joking. I’d save you from cockroaches any day, free of charge.” 

“Really?” 

“Absolutely.” 

Harry winds his arms around Niall’s waist, pulling him closer and smiling down at him. “My altruistic hero. I knew I kept you around for something.” 

Niall grins easily back at him, tilting up on his toes to kiss him. Harry brings his hands up to cup his face, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. 

“Actually,” Niall says, pulling back. His cheeks are already pink. “I can think of a way you can repay me.” 

Harry grins. 

“So can I.” 


End file.
